


Thinking But I Do Not Speak

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kink Exploration, M/M, Your kink is not my kink and that's okay, rape/noncon kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek sighs through his nose and buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “Okay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking But I Do Not Speak

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I needed to write my OTP exploring my own personal favorite kink.
> 
> So.
> 
> **WARNINGS:** Non-con fantasy exploration; the consent is preagreed upon and the ‘non con’ is only a roleplaying scenario. **YKINMK And that’s okay**

Stiles is grinning against Derek’s chest, right over his heart, when he feels the skip of a beat. “Derek?”

Derek tenses.

“Is something wrong?” Stiles sits up and cups Derek’s chin.

Derek doesn’t answer.

“Communication, Derek.” Stiles draws him in for a kiss. “Please tell me.” He says softly.

“I want. I want to ask you. Something. For something.” Derek says it softly against Stiles’ lips and inhales so sharply after it’s as though he’s trying to take back the words.

“Anything.” Stiles tells him honestly, nails digging into Derek’s skin and pinching just a bit. “Anything, within reason.” He grins and gives Derek an imploring look.

Derek sighs through his nose and buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “Okay.”

)

Stiles is sitting on his bed, legs crossed at the ankles and a book resting in his hands as he idly reads. He grins to himself before schooling his expression into something less. There’s a tap at his window, but when he looks there’s nothing there. Stiles settles back into his bed but tucks the book away, too distracted to honestly read.

Bored, he rolls over onto his stomach and tugs the pillow under his chin. He taps out a tune on the headboard and wall and loses himself in the mindless repetition and misses the delicate sounds of a window opening.

He doesn’t come back to himself until there’s a firm heat along his back. “What the fuck—!”

“Shut up.” Growls into his ear, rough and barely arousing, more terrifying than anything. “Shut up.” He says again, rolling his hips down against Stiles.

“What—no—this isn’t happening—!” Stiles finds his face, and subsequently his mouth, shoved into the pillow as Derek’s fingers (there’s no point in pretending it isn’t him) dig against his scalp and press him into the fabric. He’s just shy of being unable to breathe, but doesn’t tell Derek so. He struggles to speak but no words are coherent.

Derek slides a hand down the back of Stiles’ pants and drags them down, leaving faint claw marks in his wake. His pants are already unzipped and the metal presses into Stiles’ skin, biting and pinching at the tender parts of his body. Derek snarls and simply rips Stiles’ underwear, leaving his ass exposed.

“No, Derek, no, you can’t, okay, no—this isn’t okay, Derek,  _no_.”

Derek rocks forward and seals his mouth over the back of Stiles’ neck, silencing him again. Dry hands pull Stiles’ asscheeks apart and a wet cockhead brushes over his hole.

“Derek,  _no_ , stop, please, fuck, stop.” Stiles cries out as Derek thrusts inside. Derek makes almost no noise as he pounds mercilessly into Stiles, unrelenting. His claws scratch and puncture Stiles’ skin, and his teeth leave human indents against the fleshy skin of Stiles’ neck. “Derek, you can’t—think about it—no, no no, no.”

Derek growls and it reverberates through their bodies. “Going to knot you,” he snarls, “marking you as mine, my little bitch,  _mine_.” He bites Stiles’ shoulder through the shirt, drawing holes in the cloth. “Going to fuck you until you can’t walk, make you my  _whore_.”

Stiles chokes on a sob, spit and tears coating the pillow and keeping his face damp even as he tries to wipe them away. Derek howls and his hips pick up pace. His hands have moved from holding Stiles’ down by the shoulders to the hips, giving him leverage, yanking Stiles up so that his ass is in the air and his face is pressed down still.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” each one falls from Derek’s lips on a breathless exhale.

Stiles rocks with the motions, and now the headboard is tapping a tune against the wall in time to his sobbing. “Derek,” he croaks, unable to plea and unable to cry much more.

He feels the knot begin to swell when Derek’s thrusts become shorter, quicker, purposeful. The knot grows to the size of his fist and burns, it stretches, it shakes a new wave of crying from Stiles.

“You’re so pretty like this, fucked out on my dick, crying.” Derek falls over him, bracketing Stiles against the bed with his body. “Such a baby, such a child, but  _mine_.” Derek secures his teeth again on Stiles’ neck as he starts to come.

It seems to last forever, the feeling of come rushing hot inside him and staying trapped there. Stiles cries until the pulses stop. A heavy silence fills the air with their heavier breathing.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, voice hoarse as he laps at Stiles’ skin, his red flushed face and bitten neck.

Stiles laughs softly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He raises to his elbows and leans back to kiss Derek. “That was intense.”

“You didn’t come.”

Stiles shrugs. “You did.” He rolls his hips with a cheeky grin.

“I’m sorry.” Derek furrows his brow, and Stiles knows the look all too well.

“Hey, hey, no.” Stiles draws Derek in by the chin. “I liked it, I liked it because it’s what you wanted and because it got you off.” He kisses Derek’s face, relishing the scrape of stubble under his lips. “Just because I didn’t come doesn’t mean I didn’t get hard.” He brings one of Derek’s hands under their hips to prove the statement. “Just, let me.”

Derek sits up on his knees and starts to stroke Stiles softly, thrusting lightly, just enough to rock the knot inside of Stiles.

“O-oh, yeah.” Supporting on his knees and elbows, Stiles’ head drops between his shoulders as he moves with the thrusts and Derek’s hand around his cock. “That’s it.” He comes easily, splattering onto the bed. He smiles and sinks down again and motions for Derek to get comfortable. “We should do that again.”

Derek’s smile presses in the back of his neck. “Thank you.” He tells Stiles sincerely.

Stiles grins and holds Derek’s arms around his waist. “Mm, of course.”


End file.
